


Falling From Grace

by orphan_account



Series: Your Angel [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: AU - Angelverse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Ultra sappiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 08:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angels are given one Heart, to give to their Receiver for the lifetime. It was the simply the most compatible relationship on Earth. Q, an Angel, really should've known that nothing goes to plan when agents are involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling From Grace

“007. I’m your new Quartermaster.”

“You must be joking,” Bond said, turning back and looking at the young man in front of him, not noticing how Q froze, how the blood ran cold in his veins.

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

Not 007. Not James Bond.

But Q felt the tug from his chest and the heavy weight that had been settled there since he’d been born into this life lessened… But didn’t disappear. That was wrong. This was all going wrong. He watched Bond carefully, looking for a sign.

‘ “You must be joking.” ’

Q knew how the agent felt.

“Why, because I’m not wearing a lab-coat?”

“Because you’ve still got spots.”

“My complexion is hardly relevant.”

“Your competency is.”

Didn’t Q know it. How many times had he been reprimanded by the Masters for risky actions?

“Age is no guarantee of efficiency,” he said, more to himself than the agent sitting next to him.

“And youth is no guarantee of innovation.”

“I’ll hazard I can do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pyjamas before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do in a year in the field.”

Bond was far too well-trained to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, so why do you need me?”

“Every now and then a trigger has to be pulled.”

“Or not pulled, it’s hard to know which in your pyjamas.”

Bond looked at him and acceptance reluctantly slipped into place. Q had passed the first test.

“Q.”

“007.”

They shook hands, and Q felt a shock as their skin touched, but whether it came from inside him or if Bond felt it too, he couldn’t tell. He gave Bond his equipment and left without looking back.

If he had, he would have seen Bond rub at his own chest, figuring the bullet wound hadn’t healed completely after all.

 

*** 

 

When Bond was in Macau, inconsiderately feeding his Walther to a komodo dragon in a casino (who kept a dragon in a casino, Q thought. Honestly…), Q was back in Q-branch, building up MI6’s firewalls, distinctly not thinking of James Bond. 

Except he was.

He had to admit, as inconvenient as it was, as stubborn and untrusting and damaged Bond was, Q was interested. He was so unlike anyone Q had had before with his rugged looks and wit, and the intensity of the danger that lurked just behind his eyes. It lured Q in further and faster than he would ever confess, and the idea that he might one day get to touch the agent sent shivers down his spine. If Bond let him, of course. Sometimes people didn’t. Those were the worst lifetimes, the ones spent with a wasted Heart. Q knew loneliness and rejection better than anyone else did. If the Masters were in a good mood, they terminated the life and let the Angel move onto the next one, where someone would appreciate them. But more often than not, they didn’t. Q sighed and refocused on the lines of code in front of him. At least he enjoyed the challenge of this life, it was much better than the last one, in the late sixteenth century, serving in the Royal House of Queen Elizabeth I. It had been mind-numbingly boring. But he had enjoyed the young, laughing man with the gold hair who’d taken his Heart in the darkest rooms of the Palace, keeping it a secret from anyone and everyone for fear of capture. Q was jerked out of the memories by the door opening and he looked up to see 006 enter. They hadn’t met yet, but Q recognised him from his files.

“006, welcome to Q-branch. I’m your new Quartermaster.”

“Q.”

Alec looked around the room, taking in the glass surrounding the desks. Q waited for him to survey it to his satisfaction, a habit all the agents did, before waving him towards his office. The weapons and mission were confidential, and not to be heard by delicate minion ears. Q closed the door behind them, before offering 006 his hand. Alec took it and gave him his typical grin, a perfect cross between seduction and trouble. Q’s Heart jumped at the contact, and the muscles in his free hand twitched as he felt the familiar feeling of something being pulled from his chest once more. Q barely got through the meeting and sent 006 off. He gave R the floor for ten minutes and locked himself into his office. 

What was happening to him? This wasn’t meant to happen. An Angel’s Heart was a precious thing, and only to be entrusted once in a lifetime. Hell, some traditionalists didn’t even sleep with anyone until they met their Receiver, but that wasn’t a rule anymore, and Q found that partners from the 1900’s onwards tended to like their partners more experienced. So why had it happened twice? Was this body broken? Had something in his Heart gone wrong?

Q shook himself out of those thoughts. He’d had twenty seven years in this body. Even if he hadn’t felt something wrong, the Masters would have recognised it by now… So what was happening?

At that moment, three alarms went off at once, and R knocked frantically at his door. He put the thought aside and pushed the worry down, returning to his Q-branch.

 

*** 

 

Skyfall was a wreck, and Q didn’t see Bond or Trevelyan apart from Bond’s short time at HQ, for months. They did everything together, R told him, the other being closest thing to family they had. Q had read the entirety of all the agent’s files, but paid special attention to 006 and 007’s. 

Surprisingly, the amount of destruction the two left behind was actually made up by the success of their missions, especially if they were deployed together. Q kept his distance, as the agents kept theirs, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching. It was his job after all.

He kept constant surveillance on them when they were in the field, and had two tabs permanently open delegated to their tracking devices even when they were safely tucked away in England. It was at the end of a long, hard duo mission that, in a perfect example of how tired they were, Alec left his ear-piece in.

Q was sitting by himself in his office, waiting for 009 to check in. It was 0335 and Q-branch was completely empty. He was writing up the mission report from 006 and 007’s recently completed mission, they would be back in fourteen hours, when he heard Bond’s voice through the comms.

“Oh God, Alec.”

Q jumped out of his chair, spilling his tea on his cardigan, only just managing to keep the swearing internal. He started drawing up the security cameras for the hotel Bond and Trevelyan were at, until he heard a low groan in his ear. His fingers froze above the keyboard.

“James, James. I need-”

“I know.”

They weren’t under attack.

They were definitely not under attack.

Q didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t disconnect, it was the agent’s job to take out the ear-piece if necessary, and if he stopped the connection from this end, questions would be asked. But he couldn’t be expected to sit and listen, surely… It only took him another moment to realise that that was exactly what he had to do. There were no other options. If a terrorist broke into their room, and Q’s ear-piece was on his desk, he couldn’t do a thing to save them. As the shock died down and Q checked that his end of the connection was on mute, another emotion replaced it, curling in his chest, replacing the weightlessness where his Heart had been. Q recognised it all too quickly. He leant back in his chair and let the mixture of loss and devastation wash over him as his mind all too readily supplied him with the images he needed to confirm his theory. Bond and Trevelyan, racing through streets, laughing together as they fired over their shoulders at their pursuers; both of them sitting at a bar, arguing over the best way to make a martini; picking themselves up after a mission had gone wrong… Q couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t felt it before. They were all the other person needed. The agents completed each other, understanding in a way no one else ever could. And as dual moans echoed in his ears and etched themselves into his brain, Q felt the horror of knowing that he was useless to them, no matter where his Heart lay. Being unloved was bad for an Angel. Being unrecognised, not even being required, was the worst thing that could happen.

Q’s head fell as he let the grief wash through his body. Angels weren’t meant to deal with this kind of pain. They were too vulnerable to the patterns of life and loss to distinguish hope in a dark place.

He was useless.

He was nothing.

009’s call-in bought him out of his spiralling thoughts and Q directed him to his hotel, wishing him a good night, before the agent signed off. As the distraction faded, Q’s body started shaking and he felt himself go cold. He wouldn’t last long now. Angels could live easily without Hearts, but only if they were sustained and nurtured by the Receiver.   
Wherever the pieces of Q’s Heart were now didn’t matter, it was breaking beyond repair.

Q staggered out of his office, glimpsing the time. 0700. Q-branch would soon be filled with chatting people, high on the first coffee-buzz of the day, ready to launch into their projects. Q just made it to the bathrooms and threw up what he was sure was all the tea he’d ever drunk. When there was nothing left he went back to his office and finished the mission report. It was the least he could do.

 

***

 

006 and 007 were late as usual, and walked through the door of Q-branch at 1800, ready to return their weapons. They stopped upon entrance and looked around. The minions were working, but it was deadly silent. They didn’t even quail at the sight of two double-0’s. Bond and Trevelyan made their way through the desks. R was standing at the main console and turned to take their kit from them but neither handed it over.

“Where’s Q?” Bond asked, and Alec crossed his arms.

R seemed to think about arguing for a second, before motioning at the closed door of his office. 

“He’s not OK,” she said hesitantly.

“What do you mean?” The question came from Alec this time.

“He’s… Something’s wrong. He won’t talk to anyone, he hasn’t eaten. He hasn’t even had his tea. He refused Medical, though. It was awful.”

They looked at the office. The windows were tinted, but the door was unlocked. Bond nodded his thanks at R, and then walked into the office without knocking. Alec closed the door behind him. The lights were off, but they could easily tell that it wasn’t just the glare of the computer screen that made Q look like a ghost. Black circles bruised around his eyes and shudders wracked through his whole body. His usual pale skin was all but transparent, and Bond swore he’d lost weight just in the past couple of days.

“Q?” He said, stepping forward.

Q stood up slowly and looked at them, and Bond almost took a step back again. His eyes. They looked tortured, they looked half-dead.

“I would appreciate-” Q broke off as he was overcome by a coughing fit. Bond and Alec stayed pinned to the spot. “I would appreciate,” Q started again. “If you would both leave.”

“We’re not leaving until you agree to see Medical,” Alec said, stepping forward so he was level with Bond.

“I’m fine.” His voice didn’t reach above a whisper.

“And I’m the Queen of England,” Alec replied, stepping around Q’s desk, reaching out for Q.

“No, don’t!” Q staggered backwards, and caught his hip on the corner of a filing cabinet. He twisted and collapsed into the wall, breaking his fall with his hands. He let himself slide to the ground, not caring about the grace or elegance he was born with. Bond was at his side in a second.

“Q-”

“Don’t, please,” Q half-sobbed, curling in on himself as another violent tremor went through him. “It’ll only be another couple of hours, then it’ll be over. Please, just go.”

Bond pulled the shaking figure to his chest, wrapping his arms around Q’s tiny body. He looked up at Alec who blinked once before kneeling down next to them and adding his arms to the mix. Bond carded his fingers through Q’s hair, trying to calm him down and ignoring Q’s devastatingly pathetic attempts to escape. He shifted his arms so he could support Q’s head and then stopped. Alec, sensing his tension, immediately went into defence-mode, trying to figure out the trigger.

“Q!”

Alec had never heard Bond so scared.

Q looked up at the two of them from under his riotous hair, his huge green eyes brimming with tears. He took a deep breath and slid into a semblance of his usual composure.

“It’s OK, James.”

“This is not OK.”

Alec looked from his partner to his Quartermaster.

“What’s wrong?” He said, after a few seconds of tense silence, where Bond was staring at Q disbelievingly.

“Q… Q, you don’t have a heartbeat.”

“No, I don’t.”

Alec leant forward and pressed two fingers against Q’s wrist. He frowned and slid them to Q’s neck, before leaning in even more and pushing his ear against Q’s chest. Bond was right. There was only silence.

“How are you alive?”

Q’s eyelids fluttered before he forced them open again. The pain was enormous, but it was beginning to fade. He knew he didn’t have much longer. And really, what was the worst thing that could happen if he told them the truth? Not the whole truth, obviously, but enough of it to make sure he wouldn’t get dissected. Against all experience, he trusted these two men. Enough to give them his life, even if they didn’t know it. His face cracked into a broken smile.

“I’m an Angel. Or our Masters named us that, anyway… We’re all born with a Heart.” Q told them about being living through different ages, having a life with a Heart until you met someone that you gave your Heart to. It was, simply, the most compatible relationship in the world. You lived your whole life with that person until they died, and then you went to your new life. Bond looked at Alec who shrugged.

“Remember that witch clan in Bulgaria that did human sacrifices? This sounds a hell of a lot more normal than that.”

Bond tilted his head. He had a point.

“I don’t understand, Q,” Bond said slowly. “Have you not found your person? Is that why you’re sick?”

Q laughed unevenly, causing him to flinch hard. Bond and Alec caught him, holding him together between them. He worded the next sentence very carefully.

“No, I found who my Heart belongs to. That’s why you can’t hear it.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“It’s not Cupid’s Arrow. They don’t love me, Bond. They don’t need me. My Heart can’t survive without them, and I can’t survive without my Heart.” It was getting easier to talk now, even though the tears spilled over. The numbing sensation was spreading through his arms and up his legs.

Alec gritted his teeth.

“You’re not sick then.”

It wasn’t a question, but Q answered it anyway.

“No. This life doesn’t have a purpose. It’ll end soon.”

It was the calm acceptance that broke through the agent’s façade.

“No!” Alec cried, holding Q tighter. Q was his favourite at MI6, apart from Bond, but that didn’t count. Bond wasn’t MI6, he was family. Q was always there, before missions, and during them, and after. No matter what happened, he was the one constant that everyone relied on. That he relied on.

“What would it feel like?” Bond asked quietly. “To be… To have someone else’s Heart?”

Q’s brow furrowed a little, trying to concentrate as the warm pull began to creep into his torso.

“I don’t know, I’ve never been a Receiver. For me, I feel a tug from my chest, and a spark when I come into physical contact with them. Maybe, since I’m giving, they feel like they have an addition.”

“Or a connection,” Bond said, even quieter. Still keeping an arm wrapped around Q’s now still form, he unconsciously put his hand on his own chest, thinking back to that day at the Museum. And every day since. There hadn’t been a moment when he wasn’t thinking about Q, when he wasn’t talking about him with Alec, always off the comms, planning on the best way to bring his tech back whole.

“Something to bring them home” Alec said, looking at Bond, mirroring his hand with his own, pressing it against his own chest. Q let out a sigh and his eyes fluttered closed, becoming a dead weight in their arms. They both shifted to catch him and Alec positioned him in Bond’s lap, keeping close on the other side. Their eyes met over Q’s still figure and James felt his horror imprinted on Alec’s face. He leant down and kissed Q’s forehead, as Alec leaned in and kissed his cheek. They stayed there for what seemed an eternity, lips pressed against skin, mourning the loss of something they never accepted they had. There was a knock on the door, but footsteps walked away when there was no answer. 

Eventually, Alec spoke.

“We would’ve loved him, James.”

Bond looked at him, his usual stoicism replaced by absolute misery as he reached out and took Alec’s hand.

“We already did.”

…

…

…

Between them, Q’s body shifted, inhaling deeply. Both agents recoiled at the movement, but managed to keep their hold on him. Q’s eyes flickered open, and as he saw the two faces leaning above him, he smiled.

Somewhere in the depths of silence, a Heartbeat started.


End file.
